Hallway dead quiet. Noon hits. Fluorescent buzz faint. School gutted, everyone gone. Her steps whisper. Anne Folduc, 45, ponytail swings. Blue eyes pierce. Armani jeans hug long legs. Ralph Lauren blouse crisp. Smile hooks me. ‘Inspector, inside.’ Door to director’s office. Click locks. Blinds snap down. Light slits under door, through slats. Shadows dance. Risky. Janitor could prowl.
She points to big leather chair. I drop in. Fingers pop blouse buttons. Slow. Grey body underneath. Ralph Lauren. No bra. Nipples poke stiff. She glides close. Lips graze mine. Soft. Wet. Hands roam her tits through thin fabric. Firm apples. She swings leg over. Straddles lap. Tongue hunts mine. Hot. Sloppy.
The Contact
Hand snakes under body. Skin fever-hot. Nipples like bullets. She hikes it up. Small perky tits. Pink tiny areolas. Erect tips beg. Suck hard. Nibble. She hisses low. ‘Shh.’ Chair creaks.
Big hands grope my bulge. Cock throbs. She pops up. I rip jean button. Zip rasps. Nude thong slides. Thick bush, waxed bikini. Ass muscled. Legs endless. Fingers knead cheeks. She growls soft.
‘Me now.’ I stand. She yanks belt. Pants drop. Cock springs free. Hands everywhere. Shaft. Balls. Ass crack. Nails short, plain. Slow jerk. Kisses devour. My fingers hit slit. Soaked. Dripping.
Down she goes. Kneels. Eyes shut. Mouth swallows. Deep. Tongue laps. Left hand cups balls, digs ass. Right pumps steady. Precise. Gags muffled. Saliva drips. Throat takes all.
12:14. Phone shrieks. She bolts up. Left hand grabs receiver. Right milks cock. ‘Honey?’ Voice cool. I jam two fingers in cunt. Tight. Gushy. She bites lip. ‘No lunch home. Work pile.’ Hubby whines. Fingers out, I suck her juice. Tangy.
Bag rummage. Condom tossed. She spins. Bends over desk. Ass high. I sheath up. Head nudges pussy. Slides in easy. Natural lube. Slow pump. Desk groans. She coos to him. ‘Tonight I’ll make it up. Fuck you good.’ Lies about inspection workload. Click hangs.
Ramp up. Grip hips. Slam. Shoulders. Tits swing. Yank ponytail. Skin slaps muffled. Breath ragged.
The Indiscretion
12:20. Flip script. Palm cracks left cheek. Right. Alternate. Fesses blaze red. Gasp. No cry. Desk clear. Her on back. Legs hoisted. Cock aims asshole. Push. Tight ring yields. Pound deep. Vigorous. She claws clit. Fingers blur. Four minutes. Body arches. Cums silent. Shudders.
She rises. Peels condom. Mouth attacks. Head gripped. Thrusts face-fuck. Balls tighten. Blast one. Two heavy jets. Three weak. Fill mouth. Gulps all. Tongue swabs cock clean. 12:27.
Whispers now. Bodies slick. Sweat cools. Heart pounds. Door light steady—no shadows. Her physique? Tennis sharp. Hubby fucks 2-3 times week. Missionary. She rubs off easy. Post-match, coach bangs her. Locker. Court sometimes. Corsica summers: local stud, no hubby.
Handjobs killer. Big palms rule thick dicks. Hubby’s puny, flops soft. Complexes.
Dress hotter. Heels camber ass. Skirts quick access. Director? Sucks off deputy mayor. Gets fancy PCs.
Bilan glows. Pro slut. Holes wide open. Kiss fiend. Spanks, ass-fuck? Takes it raw. Eyes up on blowies next. Nails longer, polish. Heel boots scream fuck-me.
Dress hasty. Zips whisper. Hallway peek. Empty. Slip out. Pulse races. Cross empty corridor. No eyes. Secret locked. Neighborhood sleeps clueless.